Impulsive
by scarlet and gold
Summary: Snow knows he will be leaving at dawn.
1. Chapter 1

It was still dark, and the stables were deserted. Snow lay in the warm hay under her blanket, watching the thatched ceiling. When her horse stamped and twitched its ears, she sat up and shifted slowly into a crouch, knowing this was it. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all night.

He never made much noise but she could sense the slight disturbance in the musty stables, feel the change of moisture in the air from the mist that must've snaked in with him on his arrival. She pressed against the neck of her horse, hesitating.

Then, the unmistakable tread of hooves on the cobbled floor passing her stable. A few more seconds and the horse would be past her and out into the open – where the first few tradesmen would be filtering out into the courtyard to set up their market stalls. It was now – this was her last chance.

She caught him just two steps from the main doors.

"Eric."

He stopped, not turning immediately. His familiar silhouette with its broad shoulders and two axes crossed at his narrow waist stood as a statue for a few seconds before he turned back towards her.

She came forward from the shadows of the stables, wrapping her robes around her shoulders, stopping when she drew level with the hindquarters of his horse.

"You are to leave without a farewell?"

He took a deep breath in and let it slowly out, his warm breath a cloud of vapour in the cold air. He adjusted the strap across his chest, not meeting her eyes.

"Your Highness…"

"Don't call me that."

He nodded, paused, and began again. "I think it for the best."

Snow pulled her robe tighter again, trying to keep the unexpected sting of hurt at bay. "I was expecting you would leave but I would have thought you might have said goodbye."

"I presumed your new duties would be keeping you busy and did no' wish to take up precious time."

Snow took a short step forward. "Eric, you saved my life countless times. I will always have time for you."

Eric dipped his head in a short bow. "I did no' wish to upset you."

She stood staring at him until he met her eyes again.

"You have no duty to me, Eric. I thought…maybe we were friends."

He tucked his fingers into the strap across his chest. "Is that what we are now?" He gave a crooked smile and it appeared almost as if to himself.

Snow felt herself blush and bit her lip, feeling nothing like the woman who had commanded a whole throne room of subjects only the night before. "I thought as much. Did you not?"

The smile dropped from his eyes and he nodded. "Aye. Friends."

His face was closed again; losing the spark and impulsiveness that was such a part of him – the part that used to scare her. She wasn't sure if it scared her anymore. Sometimes she felt after all they'd been through together; he was the only one she truly felt safe around. She pushed him further.

"Why did you not attend the coronation? I know you received your gold, but I wanted to present you a token. You were nowhere to be found."

He looked chastened. "I am sorry, my queen."

Snow shook her head. "Don't talk to me like that – like everyone does. You are the only one I can trust to tell me what you really think, to speak your mind. You will desert me now? When I need you?"

Eric smiled, the first genuine one she'd seen from him since before the battle. He closed the space between them, and as always she felt overwhelmed by his proximity, overawed by the size of him - so much bigger than her - and the power she sensed in his movement. Then he raised a hand, one gloved finger tracing a gentle arc down her face, and tucking a stray hair from her cheekbone back behind her ear.

"You don't need me. You were born to rule this kingdom and you don't need anyone to help you do it. You will be the greatest Queen this land has ever seen."

Snow closed her eyes, reveling in the slight touch. His hand dropped back to his side and she opened her eyes again to stare at the floor under his leather boots. The horse beside them whinnied and Snow put a reassuring hand on its rump. She watched the boots as they turned to walk away.

"I don't need you as a Queen," she said to the floor. His feet froze. She looked up and met his stare as he turned back to her.

"I need you." She took a shaky breath, unsure if she'd put enough emphasis on her last word. His eyes widened slightly and she thought maybe she had.

The silence stretched and neither of them moved. Finally, he shifted his weight and tucked his hands into his belt, looking everywhere but at her.

"You don't know what your saying, Snow." His accent seemed thicker than ever.

She shook her head, sure now –sure of having something to fight against. She stepped up to him and, ignoring his sharp intake of breath, placed her hands on his chest, staring up into his grizzled face.

"No." She lifted her chin. "You once asked me what a girl could know of sorrow. Now you know of the sorrow I had seen." She tilted her face up to his and noticed his breathing was shallow and just a touch too rapid. Her fingers seemed to curl all of their own accord to wrap into the straps across his chest. If he would go, she would make him listen first. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me again," she whispered.

He shook his head minutely. "I think the error would lie in overestimating me." His voice was gruff and low.

She opened her mouth to reply but no words would emerge. Then he moved – quickly, savagely – in the way that frightened and thrilled her in the same breath. His hands captured her jaw, as gentle as he could be; she knew that to be true. She closed her eyes to the feel of it, his warm bear-like hands with callused palms against her smooth cheeks. Two tears spilled from her closed lids to fall in the small space between them.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Go to William. William is the one for you," he whispered.

She reached up and curled her fingers around his wide wrists, holding his hands to her. Then she summoned all within her – more bravery than she'd needed for battle and opened her eyes to stare deliberately up into his. This close, he was overwhelming, his presence closing out all light, everything else that existed other than him. His brows drew together and his eyes roamed her face.

"But." The way he said that one word caused her heart a brief, spirited leap. He shifted his stance, still gently cupping her face and she held her breath.

"Perhaps the Queen will no' call for my head if I seek another kiss as a token of her loyalty." His voice dropped even lower, vibrating through her. "To take with me on my travels."

Snow searched his face for a mocking expression but there was none, just the smallest hint of a pained smile. He held her gaze steady and the energy that always seemed to hum between them changed subtly. She gripped his wrists tighter, fear churning her stomach. He didn't seem to sense it; that she felt suddenly like the girl she was, with no knowledge of what men might want from her. She drew another deep steadying breath and nodded, not knowing what else to do. This would be her second ever kiss, the last being with a William who had been a figment of her imagination. Eric lowered his lips to hers and she forgot that other moment entirely.

His lips were softer than she could've imagined. Impossibly warm and fit to hers like they were made to do so. His mouth parted and hers did too, the kiss deepening and filling her head to toe with a strange tempestuous sensation, as if she was being pulled underwater through swirling currents with no hope of ever surfacing for air. And then he pulled away, breathing heavily, only then drawing attention to the fact that she was panting too.

She had a split second to wonder if she should be embarrassed before her kissed her forehead and murmured against her skin.

"Be happy, Snow."

Then he let her go, so suddenly she felt the floor beneath her had been stolen. He was already turning towards the horse, walking away from her as she placed a hand on her corseted belly to steady herself. Her mind reeled, the smell of the stables rushing back in to her senses now he had stepped away. Her fingers pressed to her lips, wondering already if it had been real.

She glanced up and saw him arranging the reins over the head of the horse, preparing to mount. She walked up alongside them and stroked the animal's jaw. She spoke from behind the horse, unable to bear looking into his eyes for the truth to the question she was going to ask.

"Will you return?"

He stayed on the other side, not moving to watch her either.

"Aye." That was all he said. Maybe that was good enough. She moved to the front of the horse as he mounted, tipping her head back to look at him.

He stared down at her, his face stormy as if he might just ride out of the stable without another word and not look back. She left him to his thoughts for a moment; walking his horse forward and pushing the stable doors open for them. When she looked back up at him again, he seemed more composed. The dawn was reaching tentative fingers of light through the low hills behind him. He held her gaze and she knew what he was about to tell her was the truth.

"I will return, and I will serve you till the day that I die. While you are safe now, I need to leave to ready myself for a lifetime of following you wherever you may go and whatever it may cost me." His chest rose and fell underneath his leather vest and he placed a hand over it. "From the day I return, I will be always yours."

She stared up at him, unable to find any words. He bowed his head.

"Long live the queen." He kept his eyes on hers as he reeled his horse around towards the city gates. It made her forget herself and she hitched her skirts to run behind him.

"Eric!"

He slowed just as he reached the gates and turned back to her.

"As I will be yours," she called.

His face dropped and she thought for a brief second that he might dismount and head back to her. She placed her hand on her own heart, hoping he wasn't too far away to hear her.

"I will wait for you, Huntsman."

He stared, keeping his eyes on her as his horse strained and pulled at its bit to keep moving forward. He kept the stallion at bay, looking back at where she stood in the mud-lined street. Then he nodded, just once. He rounded the horse and rode away.

She watched his back as he headed out of the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for the lovely reviews. These two are still haunting me so I'm going to continue, for just a few more chapters I think. Hope you enjoy – I loved this movie and this pairing so much.

Snow stirred, waking just enough to realize she was dreaming.

A part of her became aware of the huge four poster bed she was in – it was always the first thing she noticed and appreciated when she woke every morning. But the dream still pulled at her, nagging at the edges of her consciousness. She sank back into it.

"_Sarah was her name."_

His voice. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

"…_Until you. You remind me of her.."_

The room she was in was in deep shadow but she could smell candles burning, and something else. Someone else. She recognized his scent as well as his voice.

And then lips, warm and soft on hers. Her cheeks wet with tears – not her tears, she realized with a jolt – someone elses.

Then breath; the wonderful shock of breath to her lungs, filling her body with light and purpose, like a wave of life flooding through her.

She came crashing out of her dream with the same intensity but it was a less pleasant feeling this time. She knew it was important, that moment –she'd dreamed of it before but never so vividly.

_Eric's voice._ She lay still, trying not to move or breathe too much to try and hold on to the rapidly withdrawing memory of the dream. _Eric's voice and…_

His lips. She was certain because she knew the feel of them now. Since yesterday morning in the stables, she had thought of little else.

She threw off her heavy covers, instantly wide-awake and unable to sit still any longer. She needed some answers.

She didn't wait for a lady to come and dress her; she drew on a heavy robe and slippers and crept out of her bedroom chamber. The guards dozing at the door jolted awake and bowed quickly; Snow gave them a small nod. She wondered if she should ask them to chaperone her and thought better of it. The conversation she was about to have was not for idle Palace gossip.

She knew the way to his room. He had been given the master bedroom in the wing that the Duke occupied, and that hadn't gone unnoticed – it was a move that positioned William to be on call to the Queen. Snow frowned against the thought. She was aware everyone was expecting a wedding, and soon. The Duke had been so gracious in helping her reestablish her court and advising her on the proper way to go about things. He had said nothing of marriage yet and she had appreciated him giving her space on the subject but she knew she couldn't avoid the topic forever.

And now here she was, calling at William's room. She hesitated, her fist hovering a few inches from the door. She thought again of the dream, took a deep steadying breath and knocked.

She waited a few seconds wondering if it had been loud enough. The door was wrenched quickly open, giving her a fright.

"Snow." William was dressed informally, his hair still mussed. Her name had seemed to escape in a breath through his lips and he stared at her as if she wasn't real. Then he shook his head and pushed his hands through his hair, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry…Your Highness." He tucked the tail of his shirt into his trousers and stepped into the hall with her. He shot a worried glance over her head. "Are you in danger, my Queen?"

Snow shook her head and held a hand up to calm him. "Please, no I'm sorry, William. There is no cause for alarm." Now she was in front of him she began to doubt her resolve. She looked down at her fingers, twisting them together. "I was…I was hoping to speak with you."

His eyes moved between hers, searching for meaning. "Of course." He gave a solemn nod and turned to pull his bedroom door shut.

They walked, their shoes the only noise echoing from the stone of the walls and ceilings. Snow was trying to decide how to broach the subject when he spoke.

"I rather thought we might do this differently but I am pleased you came."

Snow blinked up at him. He kept his gaze at his boots, walking slowly with his hands linked behind his back, a half smile on his face. They turned into a hallway with window slits facing the ocean and the cool air hit them immediately. She noted he had only his thin shirt on and felt a pang of guilt for rousing him so early and unprepared.

"William, I am sorry to approach you so informally…"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "Please, never apologize for seeking my company."

They had stopped in front of a large tapestry – one of her mother's that the palace maids had cleaned and brought back from wherever Ravenna had banished it to. She glanced at William's eyes and was shocked to see something shining there – _hope_. She frowned, wondering where his thoughts were taking him. Either way, she was Queen and it would do no good to second guess his feelings; she had come here with something to say.

"I need to ask you a question."

He turned to face her and she thought she saw him repress an urge to take her hands.

"Anything, my Queen."

She glanced past him, out of the window slit to the churning sea below. "When I was…after what happened with Ravenna's apple." William gave a solemn nod. "Who came to visit me?"

He tilted his head and she knew he was curious about the question. She held still, waiting.

"Not many people, Your Highness…you were guarded closely all the hours of the day and night and only my father and I were to check on you, along with a nursemaid." Snow felt her shoulders slump and he searched her face, questions in his eyes.

"May I ask why you wish to know?"

She felt her face flush with warmth and she turned back to watch the sea. "It is just a dream I have – one that visits me often. It is of the moment I awoke." She shook her head and turned to walk further down the hall. William followed.

"Your Highness…"

"Please, just Snow when we are alone, William."

He smiled. "Very well. Although after your coronation I have no trouble seeing you as the Queen you are."

She avoided his eyes, glancing again towards the ocean. The sun was rising, and the palace was beginning to make the sounds of the morning.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing her to a stop. She looked up but found she couldn't hold the intensity of his stare.

"Snow, I wish you to know – I have no designs on a title or riches. I am here because I wish to be anywhere that you are. I have hopes that you may in time feel the same but I understand your life up until now has been little other than the four walls of the tower and I do not wish to rush you. But please know, my intentions are to see you happy for the rest of your life."

She kept her chin down for the majority of his speech, only raising it at the end to regard him. Good, kind, loyal William. Broad shouldered and handsome, his open face so sure and so true. She had thought of that face many times in her years in the tower.

A clear picture of another face pushed in to her thoughts, the memory of an overwhelming presence filling her senses full to overflowing. Blue eyes shrouded by a fierce scowl.

She drew her attention back to William. "I appreciate your loyalty, William, I truly do. This…" – she gestured to the castle, and in her mind the whole kingdom – "…this will take some time to grow used to."

He carefully took her hand and laid it safely between his. His hands were cool.

"We have time."

She waited a moment before gently withdrawing and turning back the way they had come. He fell in beside her and they stayed quiet for the walk back to his room. Once there, she dipped her head to him and he bowed.

"Thank you, William."

She turned to walk away, finally able to let the disappointment seep in. She had not received the answer she had come for.

"Snow? Wait."

She turned to watch him walking slowly towards her, his eyes on the floor.

"There was one other person."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

William raised his gaze to meet hers and she saw a definite sadness in his. "Eric. He came to see you when you were lying in state at the castle."

A flurry of emotions battered her, so suddenly and violently that she felt it would surely show. She filled her nostrils, fighting to steady herself again.

"Eric?" She felt a small thrill at getting to say his name aloud.

William nodded and his mouth pursed. "The Huntsman. He spent some time with you on the night you woke. He was drunk and I had to argue with my father to let him in but we thought he had a right to say his goodbyes after all he had done." He bowed his head once he finished and Snow could not see his expression.

"Thank you, William. I appreciate you letting me know."

He bowed again and then turned without meeting her eyes. She walked away, a completely different feeling washing through her than only a few minutes earlier.

Eric had come. He had been there just before she woke.

The dream was real.

* * *

_One month later._

* * *

"Long live the Queen!"

"Bless you, your Highness!"

Snow smiled and raised her hand to her subjects from her seat high on the white stallion. She was grateful for their devotion but not their attention – it had been nearly a month since her coronation and she still struggled to feel natural in her role. The Duke had been helpful – and Greta. Snow enjoyed the girl's company the most as she made her feel normal, like a girl again herself. They rode together often, as they were now, though the Duke and the rest of the court were reluctant to let her out of the castle gates, other than for the occasional heavily guarded ride down the beach.

Snow didn't begrudge them their concern – she knew her subjects had lost much through Ravenna's rule and she did not wish to cause them anxiety. She was content for now with a quiet life around the castle, days riding, Greta's company and evening meals with William and the Duke. It was a simple, comfortable life and she wanted for nothing.

She could not pretend however, that she wanted for no-one.

William was attentive but not overbearing. Greta and her had spoken many a time about his attentions and Greta was obviously in favor of his courtship. So much so that Snow could not bear to admit to her friend that it was not William that haunted her dreams.

They rode side by side through the mud-covered streets of the village, followed at a distance by two palace guards.

"Mi'lady, are you well? You do not seem yourself today."

Snow glanced at Greta, raising her brows. "I am fine. Do I seem out of sorts?"

Greta looked like she was trying to contain a smile. "You seem distracted."

Snow heaved a sigh, nodding to several men bowing at the sides of the street. "I apologise, Greta. I am a little preoccupied, yes."

Greta gave knowing smile. "It wouldn't be due to a certain young man, would it?"

Snow's thoughts flew to Eric, his kiss, the heat of his lips. She dampened them down, as she had very successfully over the last few weeks. She missed him but she had no right to. She knew very well Greta was not speaking of Eric. Snow shook her head.

"I am sorry to disappoint but, no. Just thoughts of the future and concerns for the kingdom, perhaps," she lied.

Greta nodded but Snow could tell she wasn't convinced. They turned down a side street she didn't think she had been down before – it did give her great pleasure to be relearning the kingdom she had just reclaimed. Even the smallest streets and shops fascinated her and she was full of pride for how her father's subjects had carried on under such a terrible rule as Ravenna's.

Some lively music ebbed towards them and Snow looked ahead to see the hanging sign of an inn bearing a stag's head and the name 'The White Hart". The noise grew louder as they rode closer; the inn was obviously doing a good trade this late afternoon.

The doors burst open and a man stumbled into the street in front of them – causing Greta's horse to rear. Snow called out as Greta screamed and lost hold of her reins – sliding off her mare's rump and into a pile of skirts in the mud. Snow swung her leg off to dismount, reaching Greta only a heartbeat before their palace guards descended upon them. Greta was fine – if a little mud-splattered but Snow rounded angrily on the fellow that had spooked the horses.

"Sir, you owe my lady an apology…"

The words died on her lips as she caught sight of a swaying Eric, stumbling towards her. He leaned a forearm against her horse's saddle and grinned lopsidedly.

"Princess."

She stared, her lungs struggling to pull in a new breath – stunned that she was looking upon him, after a month of tracing his face in her memories time and again he was really here, right in front of her. More people spilled on to the street from the inn behind him but she couldn't look away from his face. He nodded towards Greta, being helped up now by the guards.

"Aye, I do owe her an apology." He glanced back at the crowd gathering behind them. "But she may have to get in line."

"Get back here you hedge-born filthy rogue!"

A large man waded through the ankle deep mud towards them, followed closely by a young girl pulling on his arm, her modesty nearly sacrificed by the low neckline of her dress.

"No, father, leave him be!"

The two of them seemed to lay eyes on Snow at exactly the same time and both quickly stooped into low bows. The large man recovered first.

"My Queen…Your Highness… I am so sorry, I did not know it was you…"

"Please," Snow gestured for them to stand up, "Do not apologize." She glanced at Eric who was staring blearily at the man and the young girl as if trying to recall who they were. The young girl had recovered from her shock enough to gaze back up at him, adoration clear in her eyes. Snow took a step towards Eric.

"I think it best that we leave." She took in his disheveled appearance and the tankard she'd just realized he was holding. He smelt as if he'd been bathed in whiskey. She turned back to the man and his daughter.

"Sir, is there a matter you need to resolve with this man?"

The man looked from her to Eric and back again. "No, Your Majesty. I was just asking him to leave my daughter be." His voice took on a hard edge but the girl's expression did not seem at all in keeping with his sentiment. Snow nodded.

"Very well." To Greta she asked; "Can you ride?"

Greta nodded and Snow addressed the guards next. "Please assist this Huntsman on to one of your steeds and see him to the castle." They nodded and she carefully avoided Eric's eyes as one of the guards helped her back on to her mount. When she was safe atop the stallion again she looked at him.

He was still bracing himself against her horse, swaying slightly but keeping his eyes on her. She noticed for the first time his shirt was hanging open exposing a deep 'v' of skin at his neck and a good deal of his collarbone. She berated herself for the thrill it gave her and the fact that it made her think of how the rest of his bare chest would look. He dipped his head in an overly dramatic bow and then grinned at her, making her feel like he could read her thoughts.

She turned her horse and rode away without another glance back.


	3. Chapter 3

She had barely been able to force food down her tight throat, nodding and feigning interest in William and Greta's chatter. It seemed like some sort of prolonged torture, to sit at the head of that table, on display as Queen when her mind was elsewhere.

He was back. And somewhere in this very castle.

She had asked the guards to take him to the soldier's quarters and sober him up, but not to harm him. He had gone along without a fuss but she had been waiting for a report back of his condition and received none. She had not felt like eating but skipping dinner would cause the court concern and she felt even less like explaining her absence. So she sat through the long meal and tried her best to listen to the Duke as he explained a problem he was having with a merchant who was cheating his taxes.

"Snow, you've hardly touched your meal."

Snow jumped in her seat, twisting to speak in a low voice to Greta.

"Shh. Please don't draw attention. I'm just… not hungry tonight."

Greta put a cool hand over Snow's and fixed her with a sympathetic look. Snow's throat ached and she looked up at the intricate ceiling of the dining hall, willing away sudden hot tears threatening to fall. Greta leaned forward.

"Go to your room, I will make your apologies," Greta said, squeezing her friend's hand. Snow nodded, grateful and stood, ignoring the others in their vicinity who automatically stood for her. She heard Greta making a short speech on the Queen being 'fine but rather tired from the days riding and wanting to retire to her chambers'. Snow felt eyes on her back but hurried to the doors and into the corridor outside the dining hall.

It felt so much better just to be by herself. She had been exhausted only moments before but being out of the stuffy closed-in dining hall cleared her head immensely. She hitched her skirts to walk faster. Rest was not what she needed now. What she needed was to find him and get some answers. She would not sleep tonight unless she did.

The guard's quarters were in the west wing of the castle – she had only been there once or twice but still remembered the way. She crossed a courtyard brightly lit by a nearly full moon towards the two guards standing at the archway entrance on the other side.

"Your majesty…" The young soldier was visibly shaken by her presence. Snow cut off his stammering as he bowed.

"There's no problem," she said, "I'm just looking for someone."

"Your Majesty?" Another young soldier stepped from the shadows and she recognized him as one of the two guards who had chaperoned her and Greta earlier that afternoon. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she addressed him – practicing the all-important composure the Duke kept insisting was the mark of a queen.

"Good evening."

The young man's face was a flushed scarlet, visible in even this dim light.

"I'm…Your Majesty, please – I'm terribly sorry…"

Snow couldn't help frowning. "Sorry?"

The soldier went on as if she hadn't spoken. "He is…difficult, Your Highness….very difficult to control…he listens to no one…"

Her heart clenched but she merely nodded, knowing already who the soldier was talking about. She knew of only one person who could make her stammer too. She kept her voice low and calm.

"Where is he?"

"In the kitchen. The cook is trying to get him to eat…"

"Take me to him."

There were times when it was hard for her to order her subjects around. This was not one of those times.

The solider bowed low, and then turned and started walking and Snow hurried to follow. He stopped regularly to make sure she was following which she was grateful for, particularly as the corridors got more complicated and farther away from anything she recognized. Finally, he stopped at a large wooden door and lifted the steel knocker. A voice inside screamed for them to come in.

The kitchen that fed the soldiers was a long room, huge and airy and all but deserted. There was just a short, rotund man with a round red face tending a pot and one other lone figure, his broad shoulders hunched as he sat at the large square table in the centre of the room.

Her relief that he was here was almost a physical thing – she felt it wash over her from her head right to her toes. The soldier gestured to the round man whose face went sheet white as he dropped the ladle he was holding. He bowed deeply but Snow shook her head, gesturing for him to stand.

"Your Majesty."

"I apologize for intruding. You run the kitchen?" She did not know the proper term by which to address him and did not want to offend. The man stood and puffed his chest out proudly, nodding.

"Aye, and what a fine job he does too, Princess. You should keep him on, I'll vouch for his ale that's for certain."

Ah, so still drunk. And still calling her Princess.

"Eric."

"Snow." He hadn't yet lifted her head, his weight resting mainly on his forearms on the table, but he now raised his tankard to her and smiled. She tried not to let her breath catch.

"Gentlemen, may we please have some privacy."

The two men sidestepped discretely out of the room. She moved around the table, tracing her fingers lightly on the thick wooden top as she did.

"Why are you still drunk?"

"Mi'lady. I am not drunk." He stood and overbalanced slightly, catching the back of his chair to steady himself. He patted the chair, looking at it as if it had just materialized out of thin air. She walked around to stand in front of him.

The smell of whisky rolled off him – much like it had when she first met him. But then his eyes caught hers and they were surprisingly focused. He gave her a lazy grin.

"My drunkenness is but a vicious rumour. I am sober and ready to serve." He tipped at the waist in a bow, overbalanced and righted himself. Then he reached for his tankard, taking a long swig.

"Why are you doing this?" She gripped the back of his chair, her eyes on her own white knuckles.

He stayed silent, the huge bulk of him swaying just slightly in the corner of her vision.

"I'm not doing anything, Your Highness. This is who I am." His voice was quieter, softer than before.

She shook her head. "No. I don't believe that." She lifted her face to look at him. He glanced at her but averted his eyes, looking at the fire in the hearth just behind her. Even through his drunken state she could sense the tension coiled inside of him.

Once, before her mother had died, a travelling circus had visited the castle. They had some exotic creatures – an old bear with a chain attached to a ring through its nose and a white tiger that prowled its tiny cage, back and forth in front of the bars. Its eyes never left her as it did, and she had never forgotten its defiant stare. It had saddened her greatly, her pity for the poor creature – even before she became a prisoner to iron bars herself.

That's what Eric looked to her now – something caged and restless. She reached out and laid a hand on his thick forearm. He nearly flinched, but held himself still with only the twitch in his jaw testament to how much it was costing him to do so.

"Do you drink to drown your sorrows or your conscience?" The words left her lips in a whisper.

He gave a short, amused huff.

"Both." The single syllable hung in the air between them, changing the tension to a hum that drowned out every sensible thought in her head.

The heavy door she'd entered through only moments earlier opened loudly and she saw at least three people tumble through it in the corner of her vision. Eric had already reacted, turning quickly and holding an arm across her while snatching his axe from the table with the other. When Snow saw it was the Duke, the young soldier and the chef again, she gripped Eric's arm speaking quickly.

"It's the Duke, Eric."

Eric continued to position himself in front of her as the Duke approached but his body had lost some of its tension.

"Your Highness. I was concerned for your wellbeing. Eric." The Duke bowed to her and nodded to Eric, his face perfectly composed. Snow calculated how he could have known where she was and decided he had perhaps followed her. She gripped Eric's arm tighter. The Duke's stony face betrayed him for just a split second as he glanced at her fingertips pressing into Eric's bicep and then back up to her face again.

"I'm am fine. I was just...seeing after Eric. I heard he had returned and wished to see if he was well."

The Duke pressed his lips together in a firm line before answering. "Yes, I was aware. We have his quarters ready for him."

Snow tilted her head to one side, glancing at Eric and then the Duke. "His quarters?" Eric let his axe clatter on the table. Snow prompted him.

"Eric?"

He was holding the Duke with a steady stare. The Duke answered for him.

"Eric is to be given his own quarters. I haven't had a chance to discuss it with you, Your Highness, but it would be only fitting considering the courts desires to make him a Knight."

Snow glanced between the two men, her cheeks feeling hot. "Why was I not informed of this?"

The Duke moved forward, his palms held towards her. "My apologies, Your Highness, but after Ravenna's defeat, there have been many matters to deal with. As a Knight, Eric will be given responsibilities and privileges befitting his title and these must be considered by all before being brought to you for approval." The Duke placed a hand on Eric's shoulder in a warm fatherly gesture. "Eric will have a title and riches, staff and some land to take a wife and raise a family."

Snow felt her stomach turn. She turned to address Eric.

"You knew of this?"

His eyes did not leave the Duke. "Aye." He seemed to remember himself then, turning to her and nodding. "Your Majesty".

Snow waved away the formal gesture. "And this is what you want?"

Eric bowed his head but she felt it was more to hide his eyes than to show his reverence. "Aye, Your Majesty. I wish to serve and honor you and this would allow me to do both."

The Duke was abruptly there beside them. "Your Majesty, it is late, and I would be happy to escort you to your quarters…"

"Eric can escort me."

With a low bow, The Duke cleared his throat. "Please excuse me, my Queen, but might I suggest it is no longer proper to be seen in the sole company of a gentleman you are not betrothed to."

Snow frowned, turning to Eric for support. But Eric shook his head and averted his gaze to the ground.

"He's right, Sn.. Your Highness. It is no' proper."

Snow stared at him waiting for him to raise his head but he continued to keep his eyes down. The Duke stepped smoothly between them and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You will see Eric in a few days time to bestow his Knighthood." He began walking, leading her away to the door. Snow stopped and twisted out of his grip, spinning back around to Eric who stood with his head still bowed.

"Is this what you really want?" she said.

He lifted his face to hers and it was composed, – with that hint of mocking she loved.

"Aye. This is what I want. You better get yourself back to the castle, Sn…Your Majesty."

She shook her head, remembering she had more questions, about the pub she'd seen him at that afternoon, about the girl and her father and where he had been all these weeks. But he smiled at her, reassuring – not half as drunk looking as he had been previous. Four more men came rowdily through the door, before seeing her and quieting themselves. They bowed and stepped carefully out of the way and she let the Duke lead her through the door.


End file.
